


Slip-Sliding Away

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, M/M, Magic, Outdoor Sex, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hot summer’s day with the kids has Harry and Ron in the back garden. Things get a bit philosophical and a bit out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip-Sliding Away

**Author's Note:**

> This story came out of nowhere in 2008 and then the summer doldrums drove my muse away. I finally finished it in September, and by then, no one cared if the weather was hot. So, I saved it for this summer (2009). :D

*~*

  
“Uncle Harry! Watch this!”

  Hugo Weasley runs and jumps onto the plastic water slide Harry and Ron set up on the hill behind the house. He does a perfect surfer’s crouch.

 “Nice!” Harry calls as the boy completes the run with a triumphant whoop.

It’s the third really hot day of the summer. The first day, Harry took them all to a Muggle pool in the village, which didn’t work out as well as he’d hoped. Too many kids asked too many questions about where James had been that year for school. The second day, Ron and Harry tried to distract them with ice lollies and computer games, which only worked for so long. But on the third day, Harry came up with with a sure-fire plan: the water slide.

Hugo’s celebration is short lived, though. “Ow! OWW!” he screams.

Harry sprints to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ow! Hurts!”

Sticking out of the bottom of Hugo’s foot is a long, black thorn. “Whoa, nasty!” Harry says. “But no worries, now. I can take care of this. You want me to?”

  Hugo nods vigorously, fighting back the tears. He watches as Harry waves his wand: the thorn disappears; the wound is gently cleansed and healed, all within a few seconds.

  “Hey!” Ron calls, jogging up. “You okay, little man?”

  Hugo flexes his foot. “Yeah, Uncle Harry took care of it. Can we keeping sliding?”

  “Of course, but hang on. Let me check around for some more of those thorns.” Harry casts _Revelato_!, and a large number of black thorns rise up out of the field; a nearby tree glows there are so many.

  “I’m gonna take that bush out,” Ron grumbles, pointing his wand at it.

“No,” Harry counsels. “It’s a magical shrub. Hermione said it’s rare in this part of Britain and the sap is used in several potions. We’ll just have to remember to be extra careful.” He Banishes the loose thorns to a tidy pile underneath the bush. “We’ll move the slide away from here.” Carefully, he again casts a Levitation spell at the plastic sheeting and shifts it away.

  They check the field below the new landing space, magically and physically, then Ron gives Hugo and the rest of the kids the thumbs-up.

  Lily comes screaming down the slide on her belly. “Wheee!”

  “The thorn aside, this was a great idea,” Ron says. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure,” Harry replies. “I saw something like this in the neighbourhood in Little Whinging. I had a go on it before Dudley and his arsehole gang showed up and ruined it for everyone.” He takes the bottle Ron has _Accio_ ’ed from a cooler at the top of the hill. “I remembered a few days ago and worked out the charms to keep the water flowing last night.”

  “Well, it’s pretty fucking awesome,” Ron says, impressed, as Rose slides by them, screaming in delight.

  “Where’s Hermione today?” Harry asks, waving at James as he tries to best Hugo’s surfer style.

  “Working, probably. That’s what she usually does when we have the kids. How about Gin?”

  “No idea,” Harry says quietly. He shrugs. “We don’t communicate all that much except for stuff about the kids.”

  “Sorry you aren’t better friends.” Ron places his hand on Harry’s thigh.

“Yeah, well,” Harry begins, then drops the thought. Ron grunts and pulls on his beer. His hand lingers.

The day is hazy. They watch the kids take it turns sliding down the plastic sheeting, each attempt more outrageous than the last. It’s a good time, watching their kids playing together so well.

 “We were never friends,” Harry says finally.

“What?

“Ginny and me, what you asked earlier about us not being friends. We were never friends,” Harry repeats. “We were boyfriend and girlfriend. We were lovers, then husband and wife, but never friends. Not like you and Hermione.”

  They both wave as Al slides by, backwards.

  Ron turns thoughtful. “Yeah, true that.”

  Harry shakes his head. “She could never accept this. Us.” He leans over further and kisses him quickly; Ron tastes of beer and grass and warm sunshine.

  Ron gives him a lazy smile. “Not like Hermione anyway. I sometimes get the feeling she’d like to watch.”

  “She does, or rather, she has.” Harry laughs. “She told me that once.”

“Look at me, Daddy!” Rose shrieks as she shoots by, riding on a plastic ring. They wave.

  “No way!” Ron exclaims. “She must’ve been drunk, and I’ve been there for the two times that’s happened.”

   “Erm. . . well, there was a third time.”

  “Really? Ron spins around and faces him fully. “When?”

  Harry is a little sorry he’s mentioned it. “The night your divorce was final. You were off with your brothers. She came over, and proceeded to get completely pissed.”

  “Did she do anything?”

  “Of course not. Well, not really. She just wanted to have a cry on my shoulder.” Harry shifts uncomfortably. “And to beat me up.”

  “She didn’t?!”

  Harry scoffs. “This is Hermione, right? Nah, she tried to work up a righteous anger about you leaving her for me, but she did get in one solid punch before collapsing into a heap of tears.”

  “Oops.” Ron continues rubbing Harry’s thigh. “I thought she was all right with”—he waves his hand between them—“us. The fact that it was you and not some tarty bird that got between me and her.”

  “Did you know she caught us snogging, you know, that time in your garden? She thought it was pretty fucking hot –“

  “Wait—Hermione used those words? She said ‘pretty fucking hot’?”

  Harry laughs again. “Yeah, she did. And she caught us frotting in the cellar that night I went to your house after my divorce was final.”

  “No way.” Ron’s blushes furiously, his fingers digging into Harry’s thigh again.

  “Oh, way. She saw you come. Said it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Ron lays back in the grass, trying to decide if he feels sick or massively turned on.

  “Aww, it’s okay. She said something about wanting to watch us fuck sometime. But right after that she passed out, so I’m pretty sure she was too drunk to remember.”

  Harry rolls over and straddles Ron, leans in and gives him a long, lingering kiss. He thrusts his hard cock against Ron’s. “She’s right,” Harry says. “You are beautiful when you come.”

  Then, in slow motion and simultaneously, they look up the hill. No kids. They look behind Harry towards the slippery wet plastic slide on the hill. No kids.

  “Not that I’m not one hundred percent relieved they aren’t around, but where are the sprogs?” Ron asks.

  Harry strokes them both again, then sits up with a sigh. His wand does a complicated pattern in the air, throwing up a visual that looks vaguely like a compass. “Two hundred sixteen metres to the northwest. Ah. They’re at the house. James probably took them in for some ice lollies. Good boy, my James.” He waves his wand again, and Banishes their clothes.

  “Oi! We’re still outside!”

  Harry gives him a wicked smile. “The sprogs are at the house; there’s a thick hedge between there and us. You know the telly is on, and James and Hugo can _not_ stay away from the computer. Hermione’s at work. We live three kilometers from the nearest neighbour, and your problem is…?”

  Ron considers Harry’s logic. “Well, when you put it that way.” He rolls them both over, and pushes up onto his knees, looking down at a laughing, naked, aroused Harry. “And it feels so much better without the clothes.” He kisses Harry again, this time shoving his tongue in, rolling it lazily around Harry’s.

  Having had the giggles kissed away, Harry’s face turns serious. “Fuck me,” he pleads, breathless. He carelessly casts a Look-Not aversion spell for good measure.

  Ron takes the wand from Harry’s hand and silently waves it over his own cock, silently conjuring a warm gel. He uses some of the slippery lube to caress Harry’s entrance. Harry’s eyes roll back into his head as he hisses and lifts his hips. “God, that’s so good.”

  “Just you wait,” Ron says, working a finger past the tight ring. “Never grow tired of this, you know. Never get tired of making love to you.” 

“ _With_ me, you mean.”

“Yeah, whatever, shut up.”

  Ron bends and takes Harry’s right nipple between his teeth, worrying it over and over with the tip of his tongue. Harry pushes it into Ron’s mouth more, encouraging him to take the areola as well, which he does; Ron works another finger into Harry’s arse, causing him to moan.

Harry is rapidly approaching the breaking point, and Ron knows it. He can feel Harry shuddering under him; his tongue laving that magical right nipple always drives Harry wild. When Ron releases it, the bud is hard and blood-red.

  Harry groans. “You’re killing me. If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m gonna explode, and that won’t be pretty.”

 “You’re always pretty,” Ron says leerily. Harry tries to slap him, but Ron catches him by the wrist. “Ooh, want it rough, do you?”

  Harry tries to buck under him. “If you don’t get on with it…”

 

“You’re gonna do what to me?” Ron asks. Before Harry can spit out a retort, Ron pushes his cock into Harry’s body.

  Feeling Ron fill him completely, Harry lets go a loud moan. “Oh, god,” he chokes out. “Oh, god…”

  

Ron thrusts shallowly, enjoying the tightness. Harry is always tight, and he loves it. But watching the emotions flit across Harry’s handsome face—fleeting pain to lust to joy—is what captures Ron’s heart. He angles down, knowing precisely where it is that will cause Harry to cry out in ecstasy. He knows he’s found it when Harry’s prick suddenly bounces hard off his stomach.

  “Like that, do you?”

  Ron pulls out slowly, the tip remaining just inside. He waits for Harry to growl at him, another of his favourite Harry-sounds, and then he slams in. Harry cries out and arches.

  “Now! More!"

 

Ron can feel Harry’s impending orgasm. He sees it in the way Harry clenches his jaw and how his back arches from his hips through his chest; he hears it in the small grunting noises. He takes Harry’s lovely, weeping cock in his hand and pulls hard on it, all the while pumping furiously.

 Harry’s face screws up then melts into the beautiful expression of release; Ron feels his hand covered in Harry’s warm spunk.

  Ron cannot resist watching his best mate come. It is the most erotic image in the universe, and with two deep thrusts, he climaxes with a grunt.

Satisfied, Ron collapses at Harry’s side. The sun beats gently down on them as their breathing slows; fingers card through the other’s hair. Lethargy steals through sated bodies and within a handful of heartbeats, they doze off.

*~*

And up on the hillside, from behind the hedge, she sighs, having watching two beautiful men in the throes of passion. It isn’t how she had imagined her life would be, but she accepts it. “Oh, Harry,” Hermione whispers, “I’m so glad your Aversion spell can always be broken.”

*~*


End file.
